


Where Eagles Dare

by crazynoona



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe, BAMF Darcy Lewis, C.R.A.C.K, Crack, Darcy's tazer got an upgrade!, Espionage, F/M, One Shot, SHIELD Agent Darcy Lewis, This is just a drill, tasertricks - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 11:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3850015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazynoona/pseuds/crazynoona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When business got a little too close and personal between two espionage agents. </p><p>Starring : <br/>DL as Copperhead / LL as The Trickster</p><p>Mission Codename :<br/>The Winter Casket</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Eagles Dare

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags, I repeat, this is just a drill, with a bit of fun and a lot of CRACK.  
>  
> 
> Enjoy darlings :*
> 
>  
> 
> xxoo
> 
>  
> 
> * P.S : as always, NOT beta'd, to avoid any splitting headache it might cause to some grammar nazis, the exit is _thaaaat_ way ;)

* * *

 

 

 

> 0300 hours, outskirt of Russia

 

It was zero dark thirty awash in the darkest blue, wild wind was howling viciously, with countless stars scattered about the horizon and a lone moon drawing in a somber light that speaks of peace and serenity. Which was the opposite of what's about to happen in the next minute as the Strike team soundlessly lands from the Quinjet with their parachutes, hiding behind shadows and bushes, blending in with the cimmerian surroundings, ready to charge from their position. 

Two eagles steady on their eyrie, sharp as birds of prey, aerial view as their vantage. Their lock and loaded sniper riffles silently clearing the perimeter for the skirmish team on the ground. Together they took down dozens of guards with well-coordinated tact in less than fifteen minutes. Dirt and gunpowder thickly drifting in the air as they’re getting hotter to the target.

“On my mark boys, usher in ten.” A static voice commanded from the earphones. They already have a clear reading on the building. Bringing along the new tech proven to be quite advantageous in moments like this, the infrared imaging had displayed the building's structure while the body heat detector caught clear visuals for how many armaments inside. From the look of it, there won’t be an easy out on this raid. Nope. It’s definitely going to be one hell of a party.

“Copy sir, Rollins ready to go.” Each of Rumlow’s team answered his calling with calm and conviction. Donned in their Kevlar, nightvision to their heads and loaded Carbines on their hands, they were all set to strike.

“Steady, we need to keep this one real fast. Copperhead? Copperhead do you copy?” They’re here on a phantom mission, as nameless agents, shall anything goes wrong, the U.S.A won’t acknowledge any of them. Winding up as another John Doe inside a body bag is more than just a future possibility, as inscribed under their contract (typed in font sizes for ants). That’s exactly why military intervention is the last thing they need, it would lead to an international crisis as they’re literally standing between the Russian and Ukranian soil. 

“She’s gone sir. Foster lost Copperhead a minute ago.” Rollins tensed voice answered him.

“What do you mean she’s  _gone_?” Fuck,  _again?_   _Goddamnit!_  He mutters series of curses under his breath.

Obviously _,_  the ex - C.A.T agent is deadly  _and_  efficient, the moniker was not bestowed upon mere whim, she’s as vicious as Romanoff, given the chance - he doesn’t think any of his men could stand a chance in a hand-to-hand combat with any of the girls (not that he would admit it to any soul), if only she was a bit more ... tractable, or at least somewhat  _sensible_.

“It means what it means Rumlow, I lost her.” Their tech on duty, Jane Foster cutting the conversation from the hovering Quinjet.

After a few seconds of swift re-calculation he finally announces his decision, “Listen up, our objective remains the same. Retrieve the  _winter casket_  at all cost. I repeat, retrieve the  _winter casket_ , at all cost.”

A year ago a recluse American scientist from Dayton, Ohio invented the legendary cold fusion and named it the Tesseract. The nuclear fusion posses an unlimited green energy that could literally light up the Earth like a Christmas tree for hundreds of years to come. Many were willing to raise war to claim it. North Korea, Mainland China, Russia, and Libya were just a sparse among the mass.

As the assault team, their 411 was superficial at best, they don’t have clearance from the higher-ups for the whole-length details, but Copperhead and The Trickster, he bets both knew what really went on. Fury sent the sly agent to infiltrate the reds and retrieve the stolen casket last night. Loki Laufeyson was S.H.I.E.L.D's best agent for the job, though for his own reason, prefers knives over pistol. His combat skill was immaculate, but an adept combatant for a sub black-ops agent was a given, what’s so good about him was that he’s a chameleon, he blends in every situation imaginable, even the impossible. Supposedly, that was the whole fucking plan, to get in and get out, not got caught and screwed up.

 

“What about The Trickster sir?” His minion asked again.

 

 _What about him?_  Huh - did someone just hit Rollins on his thick skull? “Copperhead got him. Let’s roll this shit, hit ‘em hard, hit ‘em fast. On my mark, in three, two, one!”

 

“наступающий!!!”

 

***

 

Loki was tied up in chains to a rusty chair in the middle of an old abandoned building, it was a hospital before they left it in ruin. The room was kept dark, just a few dim bulbs battling the obscurity including the one hanging above his head. Despite the cold, the air was stall and heavy, it reeks of horror and blood, of lingering phantoms from the olden days … or perhaps it was just the smell of mildew and ominous darkness playing a trick with his bored mind.

Filthy rag covered his head, cuffs around his hands and feet when they dragged him like witless cattle all the way from Sochi. As if those could stop him. On arrival, he already mapped the building inside his brain, he counted every step they took, which turn, which corridor to follow, the location of stairs and possible openings whispered by the wind from the hollow spaces. He could get away without a hassle, especially with these buffoons (there are twelve of them inside) wielding their AK47, supposed to be guarding him.

He looked over to his left, where three of them were engaged in a game of poker (and one of them was clearly cheating). His twin knives (Fen and Jor) and Deagle were on the table along with their cheap vodka and cigarettes. He was disarmed the moment they captured him, correction, the moment he  _let_  them captured him.

The clock in his head was ticking conspicuously, he knew how many hours exactly since he got stuck in this dump, and his patience was running thin. But no, he will not act upon himself, he will wait,  _she_  will come.

As if on cue, not one minute later, the lights collectively went off, leaving the room completely dark except for a faint silver moonlight shyly peeking from the windows, which was not enough for those men, but luckily it was for him. A snap and a hard clang followed from the hallway, letting him know that someone just caged them from the outside.

“Что это было?” Their leader tensed, sensing a disturbance, he told one of his men to have a look. Of course, it wouldn’t budge,  _'it’s locked'_  he said. 

“Should've listened when I told you to run. _Idiots_.” Loki drawled, leaning back on his chair, sneering at those men and their frantic attempt to re-open the door. 

“Заткнись!” One prodded his riffle to Loki’s temple. 

“It is too late now.” He mocked, the hostile gesture unfazed him, he knew who was in charge since the very beginning, and it wasn't the one holding the riffle. 

Suddenly loud music echoed in the room, familiar vocal started to sing his beautiful manic tune,

 

_Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time_

_I feel ali-i-i-ive and the world I'll turn it inside out - yeah_

_And floating around in ecstasyyy …_

 

The armed men were stunned on their post, WTF written on their faces, pointing their riffles in random directions, towards nothing but the sound of music and void desolation.

 _She’s here,_  a twitch in the corner of his lips.

“ _He’s mine. Drop the guns._ ” A woman's voice with her flawless Russian accent pierced from the darkness, amidst the suspense that she created on her entrance, he gotta admit, it was pretty darn cool. 

“ _Darling_ , what took you so long?” Loki greeted her, mirth in his tone.

“Didn’t you hear the guy Trickster?  _Shut-the-fuck-up!_ ” He chuckled at her snappy retort.

“ _Boys, this is my final warning!_ ” She shouted her threat for the second time, the last time.

Those men hostilely yelled back at her, telling her to come out of the dark (yeah right), or they’ll shoot, “Very well then.“

 

All he heard next was Freddy, a whistle of the wind and impact when leather met with skin, the smaller figure hammering blow after blow on every lethal points on her opponents, eyes, nose, neck, point blank, steadfast and precise. Series of ribs cracking, breath hitching, men gritting through their clench teeth. He can almost taste the scent of their fear, smell their panic weaving with the cold sharp air. Delicious.

The raucous song covered the sound of her movement, they didn’t hear any incoming but the tune, though he saw her alright, dancing in the dark, with the flowing music, with every swift of her kicks, every stab of her jabs, dancing with those men, toying them mercilessly, giving them no time to think, to breathe.

When clouds gave way to the barren moon, he can clearly saw how those men's muscles flex and taut, tendon and veins jumping out of pure adrenaline and tension. She was much smaller than any of them. When it comes to power, they got the upper hand, however, she was smart and agile, every blow, every kick, every punch came with a purpose, no time and energy goes to waste.

A thud, then another, and another, half the guards down, six more to go, he knew she’d soon draw out her Deagle, the rounds she had in her magazine was more than enough to take care of the rest of the men, six headshots, six seconds, all she had to do was to pull the trigger and she’d be having a piñata party of her own. He instantly shudders in distaste at the vile imagery, “Keep it clean Lewis, you know how much I  _hate_  gory sight.” 

“You know Laufeyson, a friend of mine would say that –“ Another crack, kneecap made a contact to one of the men’s flying ribs, mean elbow slash cracking his jaw, “- you’re in the  _wrooong_  business.” She said before performing a perfect roundhouse kick, knocking muscular chin, then as fast as she jumps, she slides down twice as fast, blows a sweep kick to her opponent’s feet. The man fell on his ass with a grunt and a curse, she kicked the riffle on his hand across the room and it landed near Loki’s feet,  _‘thank you’_  she whispered to the man. She finished the assault with a straight jab to his windpipe and just like that, two men down.

 

_Four more to go._

 

The next man was a lot bigger then the rest, he growled at her like an animal, a raging bull, readying his stance. He kicked the table over, threw his riffle away, he knew with no vision there was nothing he can do with it but to deter his movement. The viper sprinted his way, a few steps before they collide – she jumped, snaking and locking her thighs around the man’s neck with a death grip, striking his temple and jugular. The man tried to tackle her but big guy was too slow, she curved backward to continue her attack with her right elbow, repeatedly jabbing on his solar plexus, his kidney, even tried to twist the neck between her thighs, but this time, the gigantic man didn’t budge, as if he was made of metal and steel.  _Shit._

 

“немного паук?” His chocked voice grumbled deep.

 

Something inside her snapped at the question, she fiercely took out her new toy, the brass-knuckles taser, the Venom from her belt, right above the handgun on her holster.  _Eat this motherfucker!_  Darcy jolts the Venom to his man-tits, then to his neck, and this time, he went down, toppled and thud loudly to the ground. Timber.

She stepped on him, looking straight into his hazy gray eyes, “I’m the viper bitch!” She sent another blow to the head and without a doubt putting the man out cold for the rest of the day. 

“Don't say I didn't say, I didn't warn ya!” She sing-song the words in mock.

Frolicking jangles clamored as they cocked their riffles in response, gust of warm airstreams from the shockwaves of their weapons, seconds later it was raining bullets inside the dark room, the glass shatters, splintering all over her surrounding before they tumble to the ground. It almost sounded like the fourth of July minus the fun, the whole room tremble, rattled by the barreling ammo, the walls around them and the floor beneath them quiver.

Loki watched the beautiful chaos that the petite woman ignited, he couldn’t escape a sense of pride soaring inside his chest. The last three guards were standing right in front of him, emptying their rounds like a band of idiots. He knew she was waiting for their magazines to end. Thirty on each riffle. Any moment now.

Just as she had calculated, they run out of bullets and now were busy reaching for a fresh load, which was not as easy as when you can actually see things and definitely not when an unseen visitor is trying to run you down.

After the song ended, thick and heavy silence took over the obscurity. Spine chilling air struck their core. Their fingers stumble and falter, still trying to reload their riffles, nervously cursing to each other, cold sweats running down their temples as they hear footsteps approaching. Small steps turned into a sprint, and in a split second she charged two of the men with her Venom, right on their foreheads. They instantly howled in agony before saluting the dirty floor.

The last man tried to clinch her neck from behind, but she was faster. She turned with an axe kick on the ready, “Alpha Mike Foxtrot!” she curtly bid her farewell as she finished him off in two deadly blows, and the last timber marks the end of the match. 

 

“ _My my_  ... impressive. Were those new? Those knuckles?” 

“Uh-hum, Stark made it for me. Pretty fancy huh? I called them Venom.” She placed both knuckles back to the strap. Stark needed to improve these babies, with their current capacity she could only use them for a certain amount of shots, quite impractical.

“Fairly, not bad. At least those won’t leave another hole on my chest.” He teased.

“I won’t be so sure if I were you.” Her voice was low and dangerous. She swayed her hips, glass cracking beneath her boots as she glided to where he sat.

“That was uncool Laufeyson. Letting a girl fought on her own.”

“Oh I didn’t want to impose darling, I knew you had it under control,  _besides_ , my hands are tied.” He was visibly grinning on his seat.

“You’re a bag of dicks you know that?” She was standing right in front of him, both hands perched on her hips. Battle sound was still whirring outside, looked like Rumlow and his team are still having fun with their own share of reds.

He craned his neck, searching into her midnight blue eyes, “And you my bewitching viper, you're lovely, temperate -"

“Loki, save your silvertongue for  _another_  part of my body. My ears can’t tolerate bullshits.” She harshly shoved his knives and Deagle back to their straps, on each side of his thighs. 

“Where is it?”

“Where is what?”

“Don’t play dumb. The casket.  _Where_  is it?” Her fingers trailing on his jaw before she roughly grabs his raven hair.

“And here I thought you came for me, I’m so disappointed.”

“You think I flew over the Atlantic Ocean for your ass? Babe, the sex was great, but don’t flatter yourself.” 

He narrowed his eyes, licking his lips suggestively, “It was, wasn’t it.”

She scoffed, “I’m not here to stroke your ego  _nor_  your dick. Just tell me where it is so we can leave this shitty place.”

“Ouch, darling. You still mad at me?”

“What makes you think that?”

He pretended to give the question a deep thought, “Hmm … perhaps because you didn’t answer any of my calls, texts, emails, you changed the password to your apartment, you  _threw_  me over your shoulder the last time I tried to kiss you, need I continue?”

She blinked repeatedly, batted her lashes in mockery, “ _Oh_  I remember now! I am still mad at you. And  _why_  are we discussing this here? The casket!” She tugs his hair tighter, their faces a breath apart.

“No, Darcy, not until you tell me what I did wrong.” A pair of green shone with unwavering determination.

She squinted her eyes in disbelief, “... Was that what it’s all about?  _Us?”_

He shrugged nonchalantly, "Probably."

“Letting yourself caught, sending out that dramatic FUGAZI Morse-code to HQ, was it really?” 

“ _Well ..._ ”

"What makes you think I'd come? Fury could've send Nat."

"He couldn't. I've checked. She's _busy_ with Rogers in Stuttgart as we speak." A chesire grin on his face.

The woman shook her head, melodic laughter poured from her cherry lips as she flopped on top of him, straddling him, hands around his neck, “You know what Trickster, for an infamous charlatan you can be  _reaaaally_  stupid and  _hella_  crazy.”

“Milady, you know my heart is ever at your mercy.”

“Save it.”

Loki ignored her snark, fixed on getting himself an answer, “Now, will she enlighten me with sharing her heart despair or does she have  _other_  things in mind with this position?” He dares her.

“You really won’t tell me the location of the casket won’t you?” She recognized the serious expression on his gorgeous face. A few bruises here and there, his long soft hair in a man-bun of sexy mess.

Loki nodded, holding her gaze, “Not until you tell me what I wanted to hear.”

Darcy sighed in defeat, she knew how stubborn the man can be, “Fine.”

“Fine?” A glint of hope twinkled on his smoldering eyes.

“ _Fine!_ You **forgot** ouranniversary.” She blurted out her answer.

 

“I –  _What?”_  His mouth opened in agape, his right brows arching.

 

“You heard me.” She poked his chest.

“I clearly did not, it’s  _not_  happening until next month!” He exclaimed exasperatedly.

She rolled her eyes, “The  _other_  anniversary!”

“… We - we have more than one?” An honest confusion dawned on his face.

“Yes!” She snapped, roughly cupping the sharp angular of his fine jaw, “Our wedding anniversary!”

His turn to scoffed now, “Darcy, darling, you didn’t mean … our coy wedding last year in Greece?”

“Yep,  _that_  would be it.” 

For a few moments they both look at each other’s eyes intently, her with utter belligerence, him between amused and annoyed all at once.

“You do know that it was for a mission? None of it was real? That we never  _ever_  got hitched?” Though they did consummate the wedding night, quite thoroughly so.

Giving him the evil eye, she smacked his shoulder (hard), “Fuck Loki, I’m not an idiot! Of course I knew that! I wouldn't say yes even if you were to beg me on both your knees!”

Laughter about to escape from his throat, this woman really is something else, “Then why did you - ”

“Fake or not, it was still our first!” She cut him mid-sentence, a flush crept on her pristine cheeks.

Suddenly both his hands (that were supposed to be cuffs behind the chair) reaching down to the twin knives, in lightning speed and accurate precision he threw both in two different directions whilst keeping his eyes locked to the woman in front of him. A few stabbing sound when cold deadly steel met with flesh, a cries and a grunt before another thud followed. She peered over her shoulder and found that he just struck two of the men that were trying to get back on their feet and reaching for their riffles again. Too bad they failed, miserably.

“Oh darling, Darcy darling,  _that’s_  – that’s adorable,” His fingers gently cradled her head, entangled on her rich brown hair as if the previous scene never occurred.

“Say  _adorable_  one more time … “ She gritted the words.

“Adorable, sweet, amazing,” He repeated despite her threat and leant even closer with each syllable until his lips grazed on hers, “Mind – blowing.” And with the last word, he swoop her in a searing kiss. She tasted like wild berries and danger, of summer's heat not a harsh winter can ever beat. His tongue greeted hers, she let him in, plundering her senses, ravaging her fluttering nerves.

“… The - casket?” She dreadfully tore her lips away, breaths heaving on their chests, she can feel him growing solid hard beneath her ass.

He took a few moments to register the question, his eyes were dark and hooded with desire, then slowly he leaned to her right ear, faintly whispered his answer. Instant bewilderment lit her face at the words he gave.

_‘A tickers went / A coy result.’_

“Seriously?  _Fuck_ , you gave me an _anagram_ , seriously?!” She barked furiously.

He narrowed his eyes, a naughty smile on his lips, “I’m always serious.”

“No you’re not, you’re treating this like a fucking game!”

“I’m terribly sorry, let me rephrase that. I’m  _always_  serious with my games.”

Refused to give him further satisfaction with another retort, she promptly stood from his lap and grab the earphone that she slipped inside her catsuit earlier, “Rumlow, this is Copperhead.” 

She rolled her eyes for the umpteenth times that day, “Yes –  _yes_ , mother can you rant later? Situation's clear, I got the  _kids_. Let’s fly home,” It was obvious where the cocky bastard had sent away the cas- , “Wai- You did WHAT!?”

 

***

 

“Rumlow, I still don’t think that this was a good idea.” Jane Foster protested for the third time. She felt bad for leaving the two behind, despite of what Lewis did times and again.

He kept his eyes fixed on his iPhone’s screen, sending a brief report to Director Fury's number. The rest of the team was anxiously waiting for his response, for they too saw what he saw back at the empty room where Laufeyson was held captive. Leaving without a communication was one thing, but then when the team was still busy securing the building, he  _saw_ them, through the shattered walls, those two were getting kinky on a chair! Absofuckinglutely marvelous!

“Trust me, they’ll be fine. He hid away his ride somewhere in the frozen tundra.” Besides, those two crazy birds would most likely kill each other before anyone could catch and slaughter them. Really, the man is just as mental. Copperhead once shot him on the chest, and did his smart brain told him to scram from the deranged viper like most logical men would? No. Of course he didn't. The dented bullet was now proudly dangles around his neck, as a love token or some shit, right beside his dog tag.

“Al _riiight_ , your call, your responsibility.” She put her earphone on, instrumental music flew inside her lobes and she closed her eyes, trying to get some rest for the rest of their flight.

As twilight alight by the drawing sun, a hint of gold and auburn creeps up the early morning sky, soaring above the glorious Ural mountains, the Strike team flew back home, unscathed, with their name still on. 

 

Meanwhile, back on the ground,

 

"Gods,  _why_  am I doing this?" Loki sighed, securing the last man with a dead-knot, "Didn't you say that you wanted me to apologize, with my tongue? On my knees? I suggest we hurry before Rumlow got there first."

She shushed him and continue on with her handiwork. The men were all tied, hugging each other like a bunch of teletubbies in a circle in the middle of the room as she painted silly doodles on their faces with her permanent marker. "There, I'm done ... don't you think he looks like Dali?"

"Yes darling,  _amazing_ , most surreal." He stood beside her, crossing his hands behind his back.

" _Oh_  ... about your apology," She turned sideways to face him. "I demand a down-payment." 

"Now?"

She nodded, chewing down her lip.

"Here?"

"Babe! Show some class, we're not brutes! In your jet!"

Deep velvety chuckles tickled her ears, he stretched out a hand for her to hold, she took it without hesitation, and the pair of eagles disappeared, swallowed by the brumous morn, and together they run, into the dun, into the dawn.

 

 

***

 

* * *

* * *

 

**Translation :**

наступающий!!! : Incoming!!! 

Что это было? : What was that?

Дурак : Idiots.

Заткнись! : Shut up! 

немного паук? : Little Spider?

The rest of the Russian words typed in _Italics._

 

**Lingo (and stuff) :**

411 : Brief

Deagle : Dessert Eagle.50 AE, Israeli handgun.

Ivans : The reds/Russians

Alpha Mike Foxtrot : Adios Mother Fucker (a play on the first words)

FUGAZI : Fucked Up Got Ambushed Zipped In

A tickers went/A coy result : winter casket/your castle (he sent the Tesseract back to Darcy's place).

 

**Author's Note:**

> So ... umm I was **planning** to slip a (sort of) badass scene into one of my on going fic ( [the devil](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3656781/chapters/8080377)), but then I noticed that I **never** ever wrote any kiss-kiss-bang-bang thing before, then I got panicked, what's a girl gotta do? Elementary Watson! Of course she tried to wrote it out, a few short drafts (I got a bit carried away) and ended up with this silly crack. 
> 
> I don't know if I nailed it, but trust me, both me and my fickle brain, we tried. However, if I blew it, perhaps I might just cut it real short and put it like this instead : "She pulls the trigger. POW! The man died."
> 
> Now folks, my fellowship of the taser and the tricks, what do you think, liked/hated it? Either way, please be a good sport, I believe we all tasertricks shippers have class, you don't really have to spell it to my face incase this made you cringe or wanted to vomit.
> 
> Btw, this is our BAMF Copperhead :  
>   
>  
> 
> Have a great night & day all!
> 
>  
> 
>  
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>  
> 
> Credits :  
> * The Strike team from The Winter Soldier. Google only got two names, Rumlow and Rollins. I noticed in that team everyone's last name starts with R (even Rogers and Romanoff) and I was so ready to made up a whole bunch of R ... Rodriguez, Ramirez, Reynolds, Russo, Rivera, Raphael ;p
> 
> * Copperhead is a venomous pit viper species with brown-ish coloring, I borrowed it from Vernita Green in 'Kill Bill' just because I love the movie and the kick-ass ladies in it, I'm still yearning for Lee's yellow/black catsuit that The Bride wore.  
>    
> * The title came from a classic 1968 World War II action movie, with Clint Eastwood, Richard Burton and Mary Ure.
> 
> * Sonnets!
> 
> * The initial idea came from (again!) tomblr, but it was a photo-set for Clintasha (RIP), where Nat got angry because he forgot her "birthday", it was cute, and it led me to this, so to whoever posted it (sorry I forgot) ... thank you x.o!
> 
> * A nod for the #romanogers, despite what Whedon did, I'm on your side guys!
> 
> * Last but definitely not the least, Queen.


End file.
